They had not gone home at once. They knew nothing then of Maud’s death, but they were two children facing something they could not understand. Lydia and Maud had been almost strangers until that summer, and not intimate since. Larry had thought she might have gone to see Tony, and accused Audrey of playing Tony against him. They had quarreled and he left her at home and drove away in a bad temper.

The next morning changed everything, of course. Lydia was in bed, and sent word she wanted to sleep off a headache. Shortly after breakfast Larry brought the news of Maud’s death, and the two of them went out to stare at a cold river in a cold autumn wind; and to wonder what to do. Larry was all for going to Lydia and telling her what they knew, but Audrey was afraid.

“Afraid of what?” I said. “You don’t think your mother shot Mrs. Wainwright, do you?”

“Somebody shot her,” she said, her chin quivering. “She never did it herself, and Mother was there.”

“Now listen, Audrey,” I said. “Let’s show some sense. In the first place why would your mother do such a thing? She had no reason on earth. In the second place, how would she get Tony’s gun? She’s never been upstairs in this house in her life. You’ve brooded over this until you’re not rational.”

“I know all that,” she said. “Larry and I have been over it for days. He thinks she saw somebody do it. But why was she there at all? In the middle of the night, too.”

She had not talked to her mother. In fact, she had hardly seen her. Most of the time Lydia was shut away in her room, and Audrey didn’t think she had even told Bill Sterling. He seemed worried about her, but he was just the same as usual. Then at last she came to what Larry and she wanted. They wanted me to tell Lydia she had been seen, but not by whom.

“I’ve made her enough trouble,” said this new and chastened Audrey. “But she trusts you, Pat. She’ll tell you if she tells anybody.”

“She probably won’t see me.”

“I’ll get you in. She doesn’t lock her door. She just keeps it closed.” Her eyes filled again with tears. “She doesn’t eat. I don’t think she even sleeps, Pat.”

My head was whirling, but then and there I made up my mind what to do. I had to see Lydia, and with Amy gone I had the only chance I might have for another week or so.

“Have you got a car?” I asked.

“Yes. Larry brought me up.”

“Then help me into some clothes. I’m still wobbly.”

I cannot say she was very useful. Between us, however, I managed to dress and to escape the servants, and shortly after I was on the way down the hill in Larry Hamilton’s car, sitting crowded between them.

I soon found that Larry showed more judgment than Audrey. He did not suspect Lydia.